


starlight and its machinery

by wryrosie19



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Human Wheatley, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Character, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:14:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28213761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wryrosie19/pseuds/wryrosie19
Summary: His eyes don’t leave her, not for one second when she’s laughing, lit up in pure joy, something he can’t remember ever seeing on her face. Something flares inside him, his heart skipping a beat, and he tucks that feeling away for the moment.
Relationships: Chell & Wheatley (Portal), Chell/Wheatley (Portal)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	starlight and its machinery

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to The golden hour by Louie Zong while writing this, give it a listen :)!

It was an adjustment, learning how to navigate Aperture with a new companion. One who was terribly different from the moment she locked eyes with him.  
Human Wheatley, Chell had begun to notice, was far different from the annoying ball of blue light she had grown accustomed to.  
When he had, so to say, left his round prison, he was a lot of things. Tall, lanky, hesitant, but most of all, something she had taken less than a few moments to notice, was quiet.

Quiet and contemplative, something she never would have expected. In robot form, Wheatley seemed incapable of silence, filling each moment with babble. But aside from the bothersome endless white noise following her every step, his rambling was endearing.

What she had grown accustomed to now, was a quiet, tall, shadow; following her every move with caution.  
Chell was unsure if she liked it at this point. At the very least, his babble was friendly, felt human, and was a companion for the cold, sterile, hell she walked through.

Moments of quiet were rare before, but now, they both needed sleep. Resting her back against one wall, Wheatley lowered himself to the close corner wall, long legs near her own. She watched him with a calm gaze, and he watched back, offering no chatter, no smile, just a solemn, almost reverent face.

She studied him further. Chell would estimate her and him to be around the same age, late 30's to early 40's.  
He had darker blond messy hair, almost light brown, with grey interspersed, wild from running his fingers through it while in thought.  
Blue eyes, with a ring of grey surrounding. He had seemingly permanent bags under his eyes, a kinder gaze than most, thanks to the deep-set lines. Although on the rare occasion she caught a glance of her own face, she knew she too had faint wrinkles, and grey hair sprouting from around her temples.

He had a permanent crease in his eyebrows, slightly worried, she’d describe it as. Her eyes followed the light facial hair he had grown, and it suited him honestly, it would probably be much safer that he didn’t attempt shaving at this stage. He had an average, slightly larger nose, and her eyes followed down, to his light pink lips.  
Slightly bitten, his nerves getting the better of him, clearly. She almost let herself imagine them against her own, but shut down the thought at the feeling of her own cheeks turning slightly red. She nearly missed the quirk of his eyebrow, still watching her watch him.

“Everything alright?” He said, an amused tone to his slightly deeper, scratchier voice.

She paused and considered being honest, the truth was, she rather enjoyed looking at him, and would appreciate if he didn’t have to look back with such a powerful gaze.

“You’re quieter” She finally responded, maintaining eye contact, but picking at her clothing.

This caught him off guard, and he looked almost guilty.

“I feel like I’ve aged twenty years in a day, i think I’ve finally run out of energy to even think” he huffs, closing his tired eyes.  
“I’m an old, old man, older than _anythin_ '”  
“ _So olddddddddd_ ” he drags out.

She huffs at that, and he cracks an eye open.  
“Not even some reassurance? I’m dying over here, _love_ , and you can’t even offer a smidgen of kindness? Some world we live in” He complains, playful look in his eyes.

Something akin to butterflies erupt in her stomach at the word directed at her, and if she could roll her own eyes just to herself, they’d be halfway down a mountain at this point. How old was she? Flustered by a scarecrow who just recently had to learn to walk again like a baby deer, even still toppling over sometimes.

“No use in denying it, might have to get you a walker” She shrugs, enjoying the offended look on his face.

“We’re like, the same age! You might even be older than me!”  
She squints at him, and he back-pedals.

“Oh- No, No, That was quite rude, wasn’t it? Sorry, I didn't- I mean, _spring chicken_ you are, just-“ His eyebrows and voice both rising, but stopping when she interrupts his stammering with laughter.

His eyes don’t leave her, not for one second when she’s laughing, lit up in pure joy, something he can’t remember ever seeing on her face. Something flares inside him, his heart skipping a beat, and he tucks that feeling away for the moment. He takes a self note to make her laugh as much as possible, for however long their time is together, and he savours it, like he saves every time she grants him the luxury of her scratchy, barely used voice.  
She catches her breath, matching his smile.

They sit for a while longer, her eyes leaving his to look towards the glass, scratched and crawling with vines. The broken yet still humming overhead light, leaving them in a dark, cold room.

She shivers, feeling suddenly very envious of the sweater Wheatley's wearing, the sleeves that he’s now rolled down again, earlier having them up to expose his pale, freckled forearms.

Shivering again, she notices him move slightly, patting the floor next to him with a funny look on his face.

“C’mere” He says now, gentle, and how can she resist? She scoots close to him, resting against his warm and solid body. He slings his arm around her shoulders, his warm hand comfortingly resting on her cold skin. He’s soft, she notes, and smiles again when he rests his head against hers as best he can with their height difference. She feels herself beginning to drift off.

Wheatley feels her lean against him more and more, until he’s sure she’s fast asleep in his arms.  
He takes to drawing shapes into her side, a bird, an apple, a companion cube, smiling into her hair when he draws the heart. _Sappy_ , he thinks, repeating the heart again, bigger this time.  
He continues, swirling lines and hearts, and he feels like a teenager, doodling in his textbooks whilst sneaking glances at his crush.  
Only now, he’s lucky enough to have Chell snoring against him, bunching his sweater in her fist.  
His eyes begin to droop, and he follows her lead, now leaning even closer to her, drifting off.

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is welcome! thank you for reading <3 This is sort of a stand-alone, but maybe i'll come back and continue the story.


End file.
